South Park Box Set
by Marisa-san
Summary: Many people have horrible problems in their lives that no one sees. But the mind is a horrible tool that will take this pain, and drive you to do crazy things…' I explained, feeling a deep sickness just looking at the blood on the blade. What'd I done?
1. Kyle

**South Park Box Set**

By: Marisa

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything related to South Park. Or anything else copyrighted. But I do own this idea.

**Note: **Hello everyone. This is my first South Park fanfic. Now, probably none of you will know who I am, so I will let you know that I have a little problem. I'm really lazy, so if updates are amazingly slow.. Well let's hope they're not.

On another note, and **please read this, **the reason I called this story Box Set, is because, it's one story, but each chapter is from a different kid's perspective. So it's like a different episode, in a boxed set.

When I read stories, and they go between perspectives, it's sometimes a little confusing. So I decided to chop it up into chapters.

The kids I'll mostly be using are Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny and Butters. I'll be starting with Kyle, simply because.. He's the best.

Now on with the story.

* * *

**Chapter One: Kyle**

_I don't even know what's real anymore._

My eyes zoomed through the book laid upon my lap, its pages beaming up at me. Each sentence seemed to bare such meaning, its words each sinking into my soul. It was like each phrase held such significance to my life, their meanings a key to my heart.

The book seemed to give me eyes I never had. It gave me sight that I wasn't born with. An ability to see the truth. But what is the truth? The truth about reality? But is reality all made up?

_All made up. Not real. Nothing's real._

Reality. The root word being real. Real, the opposite of imaginary. The truth. True, a fact. But what makes reality real? Does real exist?

_What if I'm not real?_

There's no proof that I am. What if I am just an image presented to other's minds? Or what if _I_ am the one imagining them, and I created a body to present myself in within my mind. But what makes my mind, or thoughts real? What makes reality real? Is my mind not considered reality? So is nothing real? Is this anyone's reality?

_I mean, what if I'm just part of my parents' reality? What if this is all just somebody's dream?_

My parents? What about God? Many people believe in a type of God. Viewing God as some superior being must mean he(or she) must know these answers? Is this God's dream I exist in? If it is, what dream is God present in? What happens if (s)he is to wake? Will I be erased from this succession of images?

_There could be infinite alternate realities to every reality._

"Kyle," my friend Stan's voice pierced through my thoughts, my concentration instantly breaking. "You really need to stop reading those books."

"Why, are you getting tired of being stuck with the lame computer character?" Cartman asked, triggering a laugh from Kenny.

"No!" Stan barked. "I just prefer to have Kyle as my partner."

"Why? Everyone knows Jews can't play video games." The large boy paused, a smile taking his face. When no response came to his insult, he quickly bolted up and slapped my book out of my hands.

"What the hell was that for, fatass!" I snapped, quickly reaching down for my book.

"Stan's right." He said angrily. "These books are turning you into a humourless waste of space, you stupid Jewish buttpipe. Stan's no fun to kick the crap out of on this _awesome_ game. I'll only be satisfied when I can kick some Jewish ass." He said, motioning towards the Okama Gamesphere.

"What the hell are you talking about!" I snapped, picking my book up and hugging it tightly to my chest. "I beat you every time! And you know what, I don't need to take any more shit from you about my religion." With pleasure, I gladly stole Cartman's line. "Screw you guys, I'm going home."

"Ey! You can't say that!" He snapped back, flailing his arms about like a little child having a tantrum. "I won't allow my copyrighted line to be used by a Jew."

"It's not copyrighted, you fat fuck!" I growled, before whirling around to make my way to the door.

"That's right, run home. No one wants you here anyway. Go off to your, 'other reality.'" With that, I shot him an angered look and immediately exited from his house. I don't know why I put up with him. I really hate that guy.

_Negative and positive are the same thing._

As I flipped my book back open to accompany me on short walk home, my eyes fell over this. Negative and positive, the same thing? That can't be true. My hate for Cartman couldn't be positive as well. Unless it meant it's a good thing I hate him. Or perhaps it refers it batteries. But I've tried putting batteries backwards, it doesn't work.

_Real and not real are one._

Real.. And not real are one? Then reality and imaginary are one? But, I guess it's real if you have an imaginary friend, because you're doing it in reality, but the friend itself does not exist. But the action, and thought are real. They're part of your conscious self. But what about when you dream, and day dreams, reality is not present there. I'm not following anymore.

The walk home was cold, the wind whipping across my face. I was eager to reach home, but also trying desperately to read my ever-so-interesting book. It was hard to manage, as walking and reading at the same time had always been a hard task for me.

As I approached my house, I could hear several voices from beyond the sturdy walls of the structure. One was a very distinct voice I could recognize anywhere.

"Butters?" I questioned quietly, as I turned open the front door. Almost instantly knowing the majority of the people were situated in my living room, I turned towards it. And my instincts didn't fail me. There sat my mother, Butters, and Butters' mother Linda.

Almost as a reflex, they all snapped their heads back to see me enter without my own introduction. "Oh bubbie," my mom called out to me. "the Stotchs are here."

"I see that, mom." I replied apathetically, watching Butters watch me. I expected my mother to yell at me for my poor manners, but when no insults came, I relaxed.

"You see, Kyle, Butters' mom and dad are going away for the weekend and I offered to let Butters stay here. It'll be great, you can hang out with your little friend!" Oh great.

"He's not my friend." I stated boldly. Of course, I was ignored completely, which is usually the case with adults in South Park.

"He'll be staying in your room for the weekend, so.." She said, raising up from the sofa, along with Ms. Stotch, "You can go take your little jammies and other sleep things up to Kyle's room." She looked over to the blonde, and smiled happily at him. This caused me to leave my mouth hanging. My mother hated everything, it was rare when smiled at anything. No kidding unreal and real were one, since what I witnessed was real, and yet it was hard to believe. Of course I'm just being a jackass though.

"Now, you kids run upstairs, Linda and I are going to have a cup of coffee for a minute." At that command, Butters immediately hopped off the couch.

"Oh, uh, this is gonna be real fun, eh Kyle?" The blonde smiled at me, a bag clutched tightly in his right hand.

"No, it won't be fun." I rolled my eyes and made my way to the staircase. I loved how my mother always consulted me on who was coming over.

"Oh, we can play Snakes and Ladders, and watch The Fox and the Hound. Oh Kyle, it's uh, such a sad, sad movie.." The boy wheezed, as he dragged his bag up the stairs. He must have been considerably weak to have been _dragging_ a plastic bag.

"I don't _want _to play Snakes and Ladders, and we are _not _watching Fox and the Hound." I replied irritably.

* * *

The next thing I knew, I was sitting on my neatly made bed, playing Snakes and Ladders with Butters, as we watched The Fox in the Hound on my old TV which sat on my dresser.

"Oh, uh, Kyle I think this is gonna be your uh, fourth time losing if I recall correctly."

"Well you know what? I don't really care. This game is stupid, and I refuse to play anymore."

"Is the movie making you touchy? Because don't uh, w-worry, it makes me really sad too. It's hard to uh, continue with a game when you see the little fox being hunted around like that." The boy said, twiddling his fingers together.

"No, the movie is _not_ making me touchy, wait, I'm not _being_ touchy. I just hate this game, and I hate this movie!" I gritted my teeth together, and without thinking, quickly knocked the pieces off the board.

"Oh…" Butters sighed, observing the blank Snakes and Ladders board. "Well uh, don't worry. If you find the pieces, I remember I was on 87 and your piece was on 21."

"No, Butters." I said, my anger raising. "I don't want to play this stupid game!"

"Is uh, something wrong?" Butters questioned, his eyes quickly meeting mine.

"Nothing is wrong." I confirmed, folding my arms over my chest. "You may as well go to sleep. I don't know what else we can do."

"Oh, well uh, okay. What are you gonna do, Kyle?" What was with this kid? Constantly asking questions. But then again, he's always ordered around. I guess he'd want to know what he's doing, so naturally he'd ask lots of questions.

"I'm going to read." I stated, raising up and walking towards the TV. I quickly flicked it off, the last images of a male and female fox vanishing. I retrieved my book from beside the TV, and sat quietly on a comfy arm-chair situated beside my bed.

"What book is that?" The blonde asked, reaching into his plastic bag for his pyjamas.

"It's a book about life, and reality. You wouldn't get it." I reassured him, flipping open the book to where I last left off.

"Do you uh, think you could read me a bit of it when I come back with m-my jammies on?" I sighed. Why was life doing this to me. Was this the torture I had to go through to reach the answer to my existence?

"Fine."

"Ooh goodie!" He exclaimed, hopping up and rushing to the bathroom down the hall. I thanked at least he wasn't going to get changed in my room. I didn't know if Butters was gay or not. And bringing that subject up in my mind made me feel a little uncomfortable just sharing a bed with the guy.

_I don't exist unless I think I do. But what if I don't?_

Existence. To have life. But life is just a word created by humans. What really is life, what keeps our soul tied to our bodies? Do I have a soul? What is a soul? An entity separate from the body? But do we have _proof _they exist? Do we have proof what we lead is a life? Maybe I think we are just something's imagination. I don't know. I don't know _what _to think. But my mind never rests. I wonder if the other guys have this problem?

_All the stuff I've been reading; I really don't think I exist._

Butters arrived back in my room rather quickly, I assumed he more rushed to get here, to hear me read, how exciting. Well actually, this book is exciting. I feel I will find my identity and the meaning of life through these words.

…

What am I thinking, I don't even know what to believe anymore!

"So Kyle!" He exclaimed, laying himself upon my bed. "Are you still gonna read? 'Cuz you know, my mom, she uh, she s-sometimes r-reads to me before I went to bed, but she said 'only when you're good Butters, you only g-get bed time stories when you're good!'" He paused. "Have I been good, Kyle?"

"Yea, sure Butters. Whatever." I scanned the page I was on for a good place to start. "Why are you so interested in this book, anyway?" I asked inquisitively.

"Oh, well uh, I sometimes kinda wonder about life myself." I eyed the book intently, though my ears remained open for select words. "I wonder why God would have me be born now, and here, why? I mean, there are so many better places. I mean, I l-love my family, regardless if my mom t-tried to kill me, and if my dad beats me regularly, I'm sure people would die for thee uh, love I get!"

"Butters," I interrupted, feeling obligated to now talk. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh nothing." He sighed.

The rest of the night I read to him. Surprisingly, Butters listened well. I would of thought he'd interrupt a lot or something, but he didn't. And he wasn't asleep. But by the time Butters had fallen asleep, and I'd nestled into my bed in hopes to do the same, my mind had loose thoughts swirling around, begging for answers. The thinking wouldn't stop.

_What if thinking about it is the only thing keeping my space-time together?_

The space-time continuum. A 'reality' that exists within a four-dimensional continuum. My thoughts could power my reality. Without a brain, I'd be dead. Of course in medical terms, it's probably something like, every organ needs each other to keep going. But what if I had no thoughts? I'd never think to eat. Sleep. I _would _die. And if I don't think of answers, I will just continuing thinking. But when I find answers, I must find new questions or I will have nothing to think about! … Wait.

Urgh. This knowledge is killing me. But is it really knowledge, or just questions and accusations I create?

After a while, I must have drifted off to sleep, because before I knew it, I found myself waking to Butters' singing.

"A loo loo loo…"

"Butters," I moaned, rolling over to view my digital clock. 9:38 AM. "Why the hell are you awake so early!"

"Oh, uh, this is a little late for me. I'm an early-riser, at least, that's what my dad says." Any feelings I'd felt of friendship yesterday night were now completely erased.

_Sometimes I think I can see time slowing down, and my own existence fading._

"H-hey, Kyle." The boy said, sitting himself at the end of my bed, though his eyes were on a wall. "Your book really spoke to me. Those words were uh, in my dreams." This didn't surprise me. This book had found its way in my heart too. Maybe if Stan or Kenny would listen to this, they'd understand as well. I wouldn't even bother with Cartman. But Stan was like me in a way. Except I often viewed it as I was more in touch with my thoughts, while he was more in touch with his emotions. But something like the wonders of life might appeal to him. But alas, I have yet to get him interested in these books. "It really makes me, uh, you know, question my existence. A lot of times, people just.. ignore me. I wonder if my existence is always there, you know?"

"Butters, you're always there. Just sometimes people ignore people because, they don't like you." I said bluntly.

"Yeah but, it wouldn't be hard for me to disappear… And if I forget I'm real, maybe I _can _di-disappear." Hearing this from someone other than myself showed me how stupid this sentence sounded.

"You can't just forget you're real. You're real no matter what. Thinking you aren't won't do anything. If this is a dream and you could pull yourself from it, it would be a little different. But ignoring yourself, well.."

"I've never really had a friend. Maybe no one can reach for my heart because it's not there."

…

"Butters, what are you talking about?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "But it's like, s-sometimes everything feels so surreal." This was giving me a headache. I mean, it's was 9:40 in the morning for Christ's sake!

"Butters, please do yourself a favour and go to sleep. You're losing it." I inhaled a deep, breath of air, it felt good to let my lungs expand.

"_No one wants you here anyway. Go off to your 'other reality.'" _

Butters is losing it? That snapped me right out of a peaceful sleep. How must I sound to my friends? Crazy? But… until a moment ago, I really believed all this.

Belief..

Does this make _me _crazy?

* * *

Just a little start to my story. It'll get really good from here on.. Hopefully. If you didn't like this, or found it boring, you probably aren't reading this. But I'll go on. I just wanted to experiment with Kyle because to me, he's always the one getting lost in his thoughts of reality, and often tends to over think things. Also he's my favourite South Park character. Anyway, I hope someone will look forward to the next chapter. Please review! It wouldn't kill ya. 


	2. Stan

**South Park Box Set**

By: Marisa

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything related to South Park. Though I wish I owned Stan and Kyle... But I do own this idea.

**Note: **Aloha. I just want to thank for my reviews. After reading over my own chapter I found it kind of too fast paced and also kinda rushed. But I'm glad you liked it. It wouldn't hurt to get more reviews! Even if you hate it, flames are fine.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Stan**

As I made my way down the front steps of Cartman's home, I was greeted with a nice cold breeze. Playing video games really works up a guy, and it's nice when you can get a little cooled down before heading home. Especially considering Cartman's house is usually very warm. And it doesn't help when I'm always wearing a winter jacket.

I'd said good-bye to Kenny and Cartman only moments ago, and was now headed home. I would have offered to walk with Kenny, but he lives on the other side. You know, the poor side of town. Sometimes I feel a little bad for him. But we all have our own faults. Like Cartman's fat, Kenny's poor, Kyle has an overactive mind, (though I'm sure if Cartman was here, he'd say because he's a Jew), and me, well.. I have a weak stomach, I have asthma, I'm a little sensitive -I guess that's why everyone calls me a pussy- but I'm not _that _sensitive. I mean, sure I went all gothic when Wendy broke up with me, but I mean, she was my life! Ok, maybe I am really sensitive.

My jaw kind of dropped open when very coincidentally Wendy seemingly appeared out of no where and was walking right towards me.

"Hey, Stan." She smiled. Her beauty never ceased to amaze me. Okay, I had to control my stomach, I just had to. For the sake of keeping her beauty from being destroyed by my puke (not that I could ever destroy her beauty) and so I don't turn into a 70 pound stick.

"Hi. Wendy." I managed to say through my queasiness.

"Good to see you, but I'll uh, see you later okay Stan?" She quickly made her way by me, possibly because she had the thought of me barfing on her in her head. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the reason she seemed to be itching to get away from me.

"W-wait." I called out. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, I'm just going to Bebe's. Need to talk to her about a few things, I suppose." Talk about things to Bebe? Why not talk about things to me? I'm just as useful as Bebe. In fact better. I mean, I bet Bebe doesn't even know what Wendy talks about, she _is _a blonde. Good one, Stan.

"Oh well, if something's wrong… Maybe I could help?" I offered.

"Well um, I don't really know… I just kind of want to see Bebe right now. We can talk later, or something." She said. All hopes had been smashed. It felt a little disheartening to have Bebe chosen over me for a source of advice. I mean, come on. I was smarter than Bebe, wasn't I?

"Oh.. 'kay." I forced a smile. She must have realized I felt saddened, or maybe to say good-bye, (as girls often hug each other to say good-bye,) because before I knew it, she was in my arms. What had only been for minor seconds, felt like minutes. She was so warm.. I mean, I know I was just appreciative for the cold, but warm is better anyway. A sweet fragrance made its way to my nose, it was so perfect… And then of course, uncontrollably…

I threw up on her.

"Ah gross!" She sighed. It was thankful she was used to be being thrown up on, otherwise I think I'd get a smack in the face. "Well, see ya." She waved, hurriedly walking off.

"Bye…" I whispered after her. I felt so good right now, despite the fact I just threw up. As I made my way back home, everything became so, unimportant. I was oblivious to everything but my thoughts of Wendy and I. Sure, I just spent who knows how long getting over her, but the fact she could bring forth these feelings in me so quickly must mean the feelings were always there. And maybe she hugged me because she felt the same way.

That was it. Definitely.

* * *

I made my way into my house, my good feeling still present. No one greeted me as I entered, but I was used to that.

Entering the kitchen, I quickly grabbed a bag of chips. Sour cream and onion. My favourite.

"Stan," My mom called out from the living room. "Don't eat anything, because dinner is going to be ready soon."

"Yea mom." I said, totally ignoring her and taking the chips along with me. As I marched up the stairs, I munched on a few, though they were causing me to feel a little queasy. I guess I shouldn't have been eating so soon after throwing up.

As I entered my room, I laid myself on my bed, and gave a big stretch before relaxing for a second. This was amazing. Maybe Wendy was once again returning her feelings towards me? Maybe she was going to talk to Bebe about me, and how she liked me! Perhaps that's why she wouldn't talk to _me _about it. Of course..

This is all too good to be true!

While my feelings emotionally were skyrocketing through the roof, my physical feelings began to drop drastically. I could feel the chips I'd just eaten forcibly trying to make it up my throat and out of me. My mouth filled with saliva as I fought to keep down my food, my stomach and body feeling extremely uncomfortable.

To be safe, I slowly made my way to the bathroom, seating myself beside the toilet. I didn't have to be sitting there very long, before my snack came up and splashed into the toilet water.

I wiped my face off, before returning to my room. Once there I found I no longer had any energy, so I plopped down onto my bed to regain some energy.

Before I knew it, I must have fallen asleep, because I was suddenly jerked awake by my mother hounding me to get downstairs for dinner. I'm not surprised I am tired though, I just puked up a lot of the food I'd eaten earlier, so it's not like I had a lot of energy. I didn't really care though.

Finally reaching the kitchen, after tiredly trying to roll out of my bed, I took my seat beside my sister, who called me a turd before she began eating. How pleasant to think about here as I decide to stick things in my mouth.

"So how was your day, Stanley?" My father asked, picking at his mashed potatoes.

"It was good." I replied. Though what I really wanted to say was, it was great! Wendy Testaburger hugged me!

"That's good." He replied. Everyone was really quiet, I was wondering why Shelly hadn't thrown a plate at me yet.

"Is something wrong?" I asked. Although I didn't really need to, it was easy to see something was.

"Well Stanley," my mom began, looking as though she were trying to find the right words to say. "you see… the dog has…"

"Spark? What about him?" I asked, urging my mother to continue on, a bad feeling in my stomach. And not the sick feeling I'd received hugging Wendy. Hell, that was a good kind of sick. But this kind…

"While you were asleep, and might I add you were asleep for a while, he passed away…"

"P-passed away!" I could feel my eyes grow large, my fork drop to my plate.

"Yes, it means when you-" My dad began.

"I know what it means!" I snapped, feeling sadness tug at my heart. Spark was my first dog. My only dog. A friend I'd shared times with. Someone I could talk to when Kyle wasn't there. Spark would always listen! I'd never really dealt with the death of someone really close to me, other than Chef. And that was really tough. You could say I've dealt with Kenny's deaths, but that wasn't even anything special anymore, he died all the time. No one really cared anymore. "But.. But why?"

"We don't know why, Stanley, but he's…"

"This is horrible! Where is he?" I cried, ignoring the woozy feeling that made itself known to me as I raised from the table.

"He's at the vet. But he's already… gone, Stanley."

"But, is he going to come back? I mean, Kenny comes back all the time!"

"Yes well… I don't really know what to say about Kenny. Maybe it's the orange jacket. But Spark is… gone." No, no, no. This wasn't true. I refused to believe it. I.. I.. couldn't listen to them. I couldn't .. I..

I passed out.

* * *

"Stanley!" I could hear my mother's worried cries. My heavy eyelids lifted slowly, to find a room not my own. I scanned my surroundings, and knew immediately where I was, considering I'd been here so many times.

"Mom?" I asked, my vision still a blur. When blurs were becoming more defined, I could see my mother at the end of my bed.

"Stanley!" She cried once more.

"Why am I in the hospital?" I asked, having to force my words out, as my tongue wouldn't cooperate. It was work just to form sentences. "All I.. all I did was pass out. Right?"

"Well yes, Stan. But you're…"

"You're suffering from food deprivation." Dr. Doctor entered the room, making his way to the side of my bed. He placed some things on a table near by, and took a seat to my side.

"Food… food deprivation." I repeated. I looked to my mother, who had such a saddened look. A look that pained me just to see.

"Do you know why this is?" The doctor asked me.

"Why… what?"

"Are you starving yourself, Stanley?" What! My mom was fully aware I had a weak stomach. Shouldn't _she _know how to answer these questions?

"No!" I exclaimed, a newly found anger powering my body to sit up. "Mom, you should know I wouldn't do that. Christ, you see me eat all the time. I mean, at dinner today I was the only one eating!" My mom looked puzzled.

"Oh Stanley, you've been here for a day. That dinner was yesterday."

"What! How is that possible? All I did was pass out."

"That's true." The doctor confirmed, "But you had almost no energy for your body to wake itself up. It's a good thing your mother and father did get you here, so we could feed you with this feeding tube."

"Feeding tube…" those words together grossed me out. When Kenny had died one time, and was brought back to life, we had to keep him supported to a feeding tube. Kyle and I wanted to keep him living, where as Cartman had disagreed. But I only wanted it for the sake of Kenny living (though I should have realized he would just come back.) I didn't actually like the idea of supporting Kenny with a feeding tube. Then again, what could Kenny feel? He was like a vegetable.

"So if you're not starving yourself," the doctor grabbed his clipboard and whipped out a pen, and began writing away madly. I was wondering how he could write and talk at the same time. I have a hard time multitasking with two things that involved words. "Then why are you suffering from this?"

"Well, I don't really know," I answered half truthfully. I knew it was mostly because I threw up often, but I ate more than I threw up, and I rarely threw up. Before my mother or the doctor could come to a conclusion, I quickly added, "But I assume it's from the fact I throw up a lot. I have a weak stomach." The doctor nodded.  
"But why would you just throw up for no reason?" This guy was really bothering me. Couldn't he just be an idiot like he always was? I always wondered how adults in South Park even got their jobs with the intelligence they have.

"There's obviously a reason. Everyone throws up for a reason. Whether or not they're sick, bulimic, see something disgusting, there's still a reason."

"Well then, please tell us the reason." My mother urged.

"I.. I was feeling sick today." Again, this was only partially the truth. I'd originally thrown up seeing Wendy, but I wouldn't say that in front of my mother for fear of being embarrassed.

"Oh then sweetie, why did you go to Eric's house? You probably gave him and Kyle the sickness! Or maybe that Kenny boy gave it to you." Urgh, adults. I slapped my hand against my nose.

"No, mom. Kenny wasn't sick. And none of them are, so don't worry about it."

"But maybe I should have a talk with their mothers!" Why was she still going on about it?

"No, mom. It's okay." I turned to let my feet dangle off the side of the bed. "And you know what, I'm feeling better. So I think we should go home, I'll see you later doctor, thanks and-"

"No you won't be. You may feel fine now but I'm going to keep you here for a while longer, till you fully recover your strength." Dr. Doctor was a pain in the ass, really.

"But I-"

"No, Stan, he's right. Lie back down. Your father and I will come back soon, alright?" I sighed.

"Fine."

* * *

After a nice sleep in the hospital, and taking in some food without throwing it up, I felt a lot better. It was a good thing that when I wasn't sleeping, they had a nice TV for me to watch.

Terrance and Philip were in Newfoundland fishing. I wonder if Canada is all filled with fish? But isn't it so cold there, wouldn't the fish freeze?

"Stan, Stan!" This sudden voice caused my heart to skip a beat. I turned my head to see Cartman. I didn't see Kyle or Kenny, though, which was seemingly odd considering Kyle was usually the one that urged the group to come see me whenever I was in the hospital.

"Cartman?" I asked in disbelief.

"I need to tell you something. You are _soo _not going to believe it." The fat boy wore such a surprised face. But being this kid's friend for so long though, I could clearly tell it was a façade.

"What happened?" I asked curiously. Cartman drew in a deep breath, before blurting it out.

"Kyle kissed Wendy!"

* * *

Oooh shocking. What will happen next? By the way, I am Canadian so I know that Canada is not always cold xD. Anyway, **please review**! 


	3. Kenny

**South Park Box Set**

By: Marisa

**Disclaimer: **I wish I owned all the boys. All of them. But I don't. And I don't own anything else copyrighted.

**Note: **Just another thank you for the reviews I received for the last chapter! Encouragement really helps me keep writing.. So it'd be appreciated if I got more reviews.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Kenny**

A punch to the face. A kick to the stomach. A lift, and then a throw into a nearby wall. His knuckles were crusted with the blood of the defender, but he himself did not have a scratch. Pure skill.

This game was so realistic, I could see almost every detail. But when you'd been playing for hours, it got more repetitive and boring. Especially when you were the one winning constantly.

"That's another fight I won." I stated, throwing down my controller. Cartman just wasn't great competition. It was a challenge to fight with Stan and Kyle, for together they were both very good, and I was stuck with Cartman, that itself being a challenge. But alone I think we could all I agree I was probably the best gamer of all of us.

"God damn it, Kenny." The boy whined, too lazy to get up and actually turn of the system. "What are we going to do now?" I sat there, asking myself the same thing. What _could _we do?

"I don't know." I said, asking that same question to myself. It was already getting rather late, and there wasn't a lot to do around here.

We sat in silence for a considerable amount of time. I mean, it wasn't totally silent. For a while we just listened to the weird game music of the video game, but once Cartman couldn't stand it anymore, he finally got off his ass and turned off the system, and turned on a classic cartoon.

"Isn't there anything to do around here?" The fat boy whined, inhaling a great amount of air. He _would_ have to inhale a lot of air, to fill a body as big as his. "Is there anything to do at your house?" I thought about this, and came up with one conclusion.

"Light stuff on fire?" That was definitely one of my favourite things to do, so why not? And where I lived, there was lots of shit to light on fire.

"Light stuff on fire," Cartman repeated, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. "That is soo lame. But I guess it's better than sitting here watching this." With that he picked up the remote and switched the TV off.

"Yea." I agreed, hopping up from the couch.

* * *

The walk to my house was considerably cold. I mean, by the time we'd left it was rather late, and there was lots of wind that day. It wasn't like it really bothered us though, we lived in South Park. It was always cold. But that didn't mean I had to like the cold. In fact, I didn't. I hated the cold. People always asked me why I always had my hood on. There's a simple explanation to that. Simply because I'm cold.

People said it was annoying when I _did _have it on, for they found me hard to understand. But people I'd known for quite sometime had little trouble understanding me, for they'd gotten used to my muffled speech. My close friends, or people that'd known me long, could always tell what I was saying. Adults usually had a hard time, and I'd have to remove my hood after repeating the sentence three times. But perhaps that was just because the adults here are generally just stupid.

You could immediately tell when you were reaching my house. Once you started entering the part of town where, everywhere you looked houses were falling apart, and where people were lighting pieces of dog shit on fire for fun, you know you were in the poor side of town. _My _side of town.

I'd been poor all my life, though it was not something I was particularly proud of. In fact, it was a pain in the ass. I was the one who was always prone to disease, the one that had to do such embarrassing things for money. Such degrading things. But really, I was so used to it by now, and everyone knew the extents I was willing to go, so it didn't really matter anymore.

If only I could switch places with Token or something, live in a nice big house. Maybe then mom and dad would stop fighting. I'm tired of hearing them bitching and hitting each other in the middle of the night when I am trying to sleep.

And maybe if I had a little more money, I'd be gaining girls' respect. No girl really wants to be hanging with a low-life like me, do they? Only the rich guys get the nice, hot girls. Or the hot hookers. Because they _have _money to spend on them.

"Okay, we're here." I announced, noticing my house a few steps away. Though I don't think it was necessary. Cartman knew where I lived.

We entered the small home quietly. Not for any reason, we just didn't really have much to say. Regularly, a person would be embarrassed of living here. But really, I didn't have any shame, and Cartman had known me my whole life. He knew my house almost as good as his own, and I knew his just as well too.

"Mom?" I called out as we put our shoes by the door. When no answer came, I was a little confused as to where everyone was. "Kevin?" I called out for my brother. Again, no response came. "I guess no one's home." This didn't bother me though. In fact, I preferred being home alone. No fighting. I was home alone a lot though.

"Sweet." Cartman added, looking around like he was wondering what to destroy first.

When a sudden noise came from below us, I saw Cartman jump cartoonishly high. "What was that!" he asked, wide-eyed. "Are there rats here?!"

"Don't worry," I reassured him. "It's just my uncle and his wife, and her mother and some guy named Bob. They live in the basement."

"Sheesh!" Cartman sighed, "Poor people really _do _live in clusters."

"Shut up, fatass. Now what do you want to do?"

"I don't know, let's raid your parents room for something cool." This idea just angered me completely.

"Do I ask to go raid your mom's room for porn magazines with her on the cover!"

"Yea, sure, whatever Kenny."

"We are _not_ raiding my parents' room." I said, pulling my hood down. I examined the living room, and there was nothing interesting in sight.

"But Keeennnyyy."

"No." I said stepping into my kitchen. I didn't expect to find food, just something to maybe do. And that's when we did find something to do. "Look, Kenny… something to light on fire…" I drew my attention to the fatass, waiting for whatever he'd found to be presented. He held up a red pack of cigarettes that'd be left carelessly on my kitchen table.

Usually, you'd think at this point 'a nine-year-old smoking? That's awful!' but it wasn't really. It wasn't like I hadn't smoked before. In fact, all of us had smoked before. But I had probably had more experience with it than the others. And it wasn't like I wasn't inhaling my parents' smoke all the time.

"Smoking?" I asked, emotionless. It was hard to read his expression, so I just took it as indecisive.

"Well, you don't have to…" He said, placing the box back on the table. He seemed like he himself did not want to participate in the action, but only presented it to create a façade of being "cool" or something. I wouldn't let him slip out of it that easily though.

"No, no. I would." I began, but this just didn't strike me as entertaining. I took my place beside Cartman, but rather than taking a cigarette I just looked at him. And he wouldn't do anything until I did. "But if you're really into things like this," I said, eager to break the silence, "my parents have lots of drugs. Sheesh, that's their only source of income." I gave a nervous laugh, feeling a tug at my heart.

I didn't enjoy living here. With parents constantly fighting and yelling. Living in a house full of drugs… most kids' parents would discourage drug use. But my own parents were addicts themselves. I mean, they did always say I was never allowed to do it. But I didn't care, I actually disliked drugs. Just hearing the word gave me a deep anger inside… The fact that it was the reason my family was so messed up… At the same time though, I guess I would have to thank that they _were_ there. They were the only thing that got my family money.

I don't think any of the guys had really had their time with drugs. I mean, we'd had a smoke out back of the school before. But that was one time. Kyle had done some acid from sadness, or maybe because he bored. But Cartman and Stan were clean. I mean, we'd all gotten high off cough medicine, but that was nothing. They really were lucky. I guess Kyle and I, we're just not those innocent kids we were born as…

A lot of people strive to find drugs. But once you're addicted, you just don't want it anymore. Not that I was addicted, but seeing my parents addicted just totally turned me off it.

"What other drugs?" Cartman asked. I could tell he wasn't really interested in doing any, but part of being a guy was showing that you aren't a pussy. And whether or not he wanted to, he still would.

"Well there's pot." I answered, trying to think of the least harmful drug. I mean, it _was _fun… As much as Cartman pissed me off, I didn't want to fuck him up more than he already was. He put on a good image, but you can't tell me a kid wouldn't be bothered that their mom was the queen of German porn, and other various porn labels. And on top of that, to be hated by everyone all the time. No wonder he's done some pretty bad things in his life. I guess you could say I feel pity for him, and that's why I try to be nice to the guy and stick by him. The others don't really have patience for him though.

"That's good." He answered.

* * *

And there I was, lying on the floor in a large fit of laughter. I could hear Cartman going crazy, shouting "Where's the food, where!? Kenny why are you so goddamn poor?!" It was sure funny that a fat boy couldn't get his meal when he had the munchies. This is a time when I was glad I was poor.

What would've been great at the time, was some action. A hot girl… and the first thing that came to my mind was Bebe. Her beauty was amazingly over exaggerated by my mind, but it just made me want her more.

"Cartman, we should so have a party and shit…" ..haha. And shit. That sounded so funny.

"A party?" He repeated, his tone showing that he also liked the idea.

"And invite lots of hot babes." I smiled, rolling over onto my stomach. I wondered if Kyle was becoming more attached to Bebe, though? He seemed to pay more attention to her lately. And they _had _gone out. But you know, he could fuck himself. We guys know how it is. One for ones self only. You can only trust yourself. No one else.

_But what happens when you can't trust yourself?_

Ugh, my mouth had become so dry at that point, I felt like I could grate a piece of cheese on it.

"Kenny, get more weed. Let's have ourselves a party at Carl's Warehouse tomorrow. Tell everyone there'll be punch and pie.. Haha.. DAMMIT I'm hungry as fuck." That was probably the funniest thing I heard all day... but that was probably on account of I was high.

* * *

Whoot whoot. The end of chapter three. Be sure to **review! **


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